Impossibilities
by TheFreelancerSeal
Summary: He had to admit she was a lovely thing. What man could not think so? But he knew not what to make of these notions that he would readily dismiss. Dedicated to HaveAHeart0301


**A/N: **You read the pairing right. I admit it's not a canon pairing, but the idea was there, so I ran with it. This story takes place near the end of Path of Radiance, just before the final confrontation with Ashnard. Besides trying to keep Soren in character, I also had a heck of a time trying to come up with a title for this. Nothing seemed to work, but then I realized just how impossible this pairing would be. So there you go.

I'd like to dedicate this little tale to HaveAHeart0301. She wrote some great Soren/Lucia stories, and I'd say they managed to warm me up to this particular pairing as unlikely as it was. She also beta'ed this story, so I owe her a lot of thanks for that as well.

Anyway, enjoy.

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Soren found himself alone in his tent, pouring over the map of Crimea that he had consulted over the course of the war. The battle at Gritnea Tower had ended in victory, and the sounds of triumph could be heard from all corners of the camp. In the midst of the joyful noises, the Branded had slipped away for the preparations he knew he must make. It did not bother him to have no one to speak or pass the time with, for Soren cared little for the doings, comings, and goings of people. He breathed a heavy breath as he fixed his eyes upon his chart. To him, the idle chatter and merry laughs shared in other places were but mere foolishness.

In a matter of days, the army would march upon Crimea's capital city, and it took no great thought to realize that the elite fighting force of the occupiers would stand between them and victory. What's more, if the armies of Daein did not impede them well enough, its king surely would. Though he had not met Ashnard, Soren had heard enough of the man to know the strength of his arm and his blade as well. Careful thought and precision was required for such a battle so close at hand against such a worthy enemy, and so, the mage set himself to examining the map and devising what cunning tactics he thought would serve the army best.

Yet, for all of his efforts, concentration upon this deciding attack would not stay in his mind's eye. Another thought drifted lightly among the grim and gray notions that had long gathered in his thoughts. It was the young lady, Lucia, that held his attention. He had seen her only once or twice after the recent battle in the east, yet she had remained with him as if they had known each other for a lifetime. The Branded, however, knew not what to make of these strange dreams, thoughts, or cares.

He had to admit that she was certainly a lovely thing. What man could not think so? It was a mere statement of truth to comment upon her beauty. However, one such as he did not know the appreciation of such loveliness. Beauty did little for any, Soren reasoned. It could not protect, it could not feed, and it could not last. Her face would age and wither, her hair would turn from its bewitching azure to the rather plain sliver of the elderly, and her body, supple yet strong, would come to ruin. That was the way of things, and Soren thought nothing for the things that most men thought greatly of. Age and death would work their way with her as they did to all. He had always wondered of what use was the musing of things that would not last.

Soren snorted as he thought of men like Gatrie who chased the lovely women. To the staff officer, it was nothing more than the idiotic thinking of a boy. Yet, even he could not deny that Lucia was a sight to behold, although he could not find appreciation for such a sight. He could not think about her based on the fleeting things. Surely, there was more to the strange thoughts swirling about his head like the winds he commanded.

In some way, he felt as though he were a kindred spirit to the lady. Both he and she were very much alike. She was bound to her future queen with the same loyalty that he felt towards Ike. Lucia would never leave the side of the princess, or if she did, the two did not part for long. He supposed that she was Elincia's only true friend, for the friends of royalty were a fickle lot. Many would only count a ruler as a friend as long as some gain remained to be had. It seemed not so with Lucia. She was the true friend of the princess, just as Ike was to he. He had to admire her for such unending devotion and equality, despite the difference in their social classes. Elincia was of royal blood, and she of noble, yet the two held each other in the bonds of sisterhood. Though it could not be said of he and Ike, Soren found it quite similar.

Soren knew not what to make of these notions he would so readily dismiss should he observe them in others. For all of his intelligence, he had not the knowledge for such things. Did he find Lucia lovely? What's more, did he find himself loving her? The very idea of what men called romance repulsed the Branded. His mind could not begin to understand such a strange idea as love, and he thought the very effort to understand was hardly worth taking.

He cared little for such meaningless declarations, such as the ones he had heard Count Bastian say. In his eyes of red and also of gray, the world was not a place for such pointless notions. He regarded love as little more than some craft, some device designed by men to attract women and by women to make their marriages even the slightest bit endurable. In his eyes, so grayed and dimmed by the world, love did not exist.

Some had regarded him as cold, yet it was how he preferred to conduct himself. It was best, the Branded thought, to hold no ideals, no emotions, no distracting thoughts. His mind and truly his heart were reserved only for the plan, the plot and method: the steel truths. Soren lived to devise some wily thing for the service of his company and its leader. He had never once entertained any other thought of what he should do with his life. He considered the map, the small figures upon it, the calculation and devising, the gray and plain things of this life his proper place. It was the place that he was born to stand in, just as the throne would be Elincia's. The mage found little time for anything but his station, and even if such a time would come, Soren doubted he would make use of it.

For that one moment, Soren wondered if his life could have made room for such foolish things. He very much doubted it, but even so, he could not help but ponder the idea. Perhaps in another life, he could have called upon the lady. Though no one else would ever see it, the thought even brought a small smile to the face of the Branded. He sat for a moment, allowing the stone gray wall to fracture ever so slightly, but he quickly went to patching those few cracks. With a battle plan in mind, Soren went to seek Ike out from among the fighting force. He left his tent behind, yet the fair thought of Lady Lucia continued to linger as much as he wished it to go.

Of what use, he reasoned, is an emotion or attachment one cannot have or does not wish to have?

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**A/N:** Hope you liked it. As always, I welcome constructive reviews. If you have a flamethrower, then please check it before you click the review button.

An interesting but useless tidbit. When I finished this story, the word count came to 1,200 words exactly. I bet I couldn't pull that one off again.


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